


All In Due Time

by Fall_Out_Mak



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Kinda Fast Paced, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Recovery, Slightly Funny, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:11:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fall_Out_Mak/pseuds/Fall_Out_Mak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Y/N) has been out of the field for years, spending her time on a secluded farm. An occasional visit from Sam or Steve wasn't out of the ordinary, but the moment she opens her front door to see the both of them standing on her porch, something's up. A seemingly innocent request sends her on a roller-coaster of emotions, and almost to her death. (Kinda fast pace, not sure how far this is going).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Innocent Request

**Author's Note:**

> So the first few chapters are kind of short, simply because I suck at introducing stories. Enjoy!

Flipping the speakers on, your morning routine soon became a stage before millions.

“Hello, it’s me, I was wondering if after all these years, you’d like to meet.”

Throwing the curtains open, you sang along with Adele like your two voices were one.

“To go over, everything;

They say that time’s supposed to heal ya.

But I ain’t done much healing.

Hello, can you hear me?”

Pulling a hoodie over your head, you continued to sing despite being muffled by the fabric.

"I’m in California dreaming about who we used to be;

When we were younger, and free.

I’ve forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet;

There’s such a difference between us, and a million miles.”

Throwing yourself dramatically against the wall, you sang your heart out.

“Hello from the other side! I must’ve called a thousand times;

To tell you-!”

“ _Fuck_!” You screamed, ducking behind the counter as the doorbell rang throughout your small countryside house. “For the last time, I don’t want any of your god damn motherfucking girl scout cookies!” Stalking towards the door, you flung it open with another string of colorful words at the tip of your tongue, just to have the air sucked out of you.

A heartbeat later, you were trying to slam the door shut, only to be stopped by a black tennis shoe. “Oh come on (Y/N)!” “I’m not dealing with your shit Sam,” you hissed, literally using all of your strength to keep your best friend out. “Just hear me out, that’s all I ask.” Pushing the door open, his cheeky grin only fueled your irritation. “You don’t bring Captain America with you out to the middle of nowhere, just to talk things over; you want something.” “You always did know me best.” Sighing, you threw your hands up in defeat, flopping down into the nearest chair. “Spill.”

The two men settled opposite off you, looking at each other for reassurance. “Just tell me already geez; it’s like you guys are asking for my blessing,” you chuckled, amused by their demeanor. “Much to your disappointment, that’s not what we came here for,” Steve deadpanned. _Yet_ , you thought to yourself, a slight smirk picking up the corners of your mouth. “There’s a friend of ours, he needs help-” “Bucky?” Steve’s brows furrowed, giving away the answer. “I’m the one who found him Steve, I know everything about him; even more than you.” Steve looked at Sam who simply nodded.

“Fury never should have made you do it; he knew it was too much but he-” “Sam, its fine. I’m fine. Don’t blame Fury; he knows what he did and he gets to live with that. And I get to live in complete solitude,” you gestured to the air around you, “in this cozy little place. I’m not complaining.” Leaning forwards, you ran a frail hand through your messy hair. “So what do you want out of me?”

“Bucky needs time to realize that he’s not the monster HYDRA created him to be; he also needs help catching up on our time. You helped me overcome my struggles, I figured you could possibly help him,” Steve rambled on; obviously not keen on talking about his childhood friend needing help. Under different circumstances you would’ve jumped at the opportunity, but now you had to weigh your options. You weren’t the one who snapped Steve back into shape, just a hollow shell of what used to be. “Just to get the point across, I’m not a babysitter,” you chuckled before standing up.

“So where is the son of a bitch?"

\- - -

Leaning against the doorway, you watched as Steve coaxed Bucky out of the black SUV, before eyeing Sam. “And what would you have done if I had said no?” “That’s just it, you wouldn’t have.” Shaking your head, you watched with a small smile as Bucky cussed Steve out in Russian as he helped him towards the porch.

“Buck, this is (Y/N). She’s going to h-” “We’re going to be roommates; thanks to these guys,” you scoffed, elbowing Steve to shut up. Bucky didn’t want to be helped; he didn’t want to rely on anyone. The more he saw you as an equal, the easier this was going to be; for you anyways. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

Leading the ex-assassin through the small hallways of your house was a little unsettling, but you didn’t let on. Pushing the first door open, you ushered him inside. “This is your room; do whatever you want to it. Rearrange furniture, paint it, or in a fit of rage you can simply destroy it; I find that to be a nice way of letting off steam,” you shrugged before heading back to the living room.

“If anything happens-” “Don’t worry _Dad_ , I can handle things on my own,” you laughed, pulling the blond-headed super soldier into a quick hug.


	2. It Gets Better

Bucky didn’t say a word for the entire first week. His eyes would just follow you, watching, observing, as you showed him how to use the TV, and the microwave. It was as if he was still deciding whether he could trust you or not. You pointed out where the extra necessities were and where the snacks were kept. When you made food, he’d sit at the bar patiently and wouldn’t eat until you told him he could. Once finished, he’d immediately wash his dishes and dry them. It was like having a silent butler more than taking care of a traumatized veteran.

  
Each night you would hear him walk around the house, sometimes even going outside, just to return hours later. You never mentioned this to him, simply because it didn’t matter; you weren’t his babysitter nor did you have the right to limit him.

  
One night you were running around the house like a mad woman. “Hey Bucky,have you seen a small blue pill bottle?” Of course you heard no reply as you looked behind the sofa. “Where could I have put it? God, this isn’t good!” You muttered, tearing the living room apart. There was no way you could survive the night without your medication; at least mentally. Flopping onto the couch in defeat, you cradled your throbbing head in your frail hands; you tried your best to calm your frayed nerves.

  
“Is this it?” A rough voice pulled you from your mental breakdown, causing you to look up. “Bucky, you’re a life saver,” you breathed, taking the bottle from his outstretched hand, “Thank you.” Without hesitating, you unscrewed the lid and tossed twelve pills back; swallowing without water. “I need a higher dose,” you muttered already heading towards your room. “See you in the morning,” you called before locking yourself in your room.

  
A few nights later, you were woken from muffled screams. Before you even registered it was Bucky, you were down the hallway, standing before his door. Knocking on it, you were met with silence. “Bucky are you okay?” Silence again. “I’m coming in,” you called opening the wooden door slowly. The first thing you noticed was the empty bed. “Bucky?” Closing the door behind you, you slid onto the floor, your back against the door. “It’s (y/n), I’m your roommate. Steve and Sam decided it would be best for us to live together, to see if we could relate or something.”

  
Despite him not making a sound from wherever he was hiding, you could feel his eyes watching you. “You’ve probably been wondering why they thought it would be a great idea to put you with me; but to tell you the truth I’m pretty messed up, just in a different way. I was going to tell you this when I thought you were ready to know, but now seems like a good enough time as any,” you sighed heavily. “Tell me Bucky, what’s your favorite memory?” The sound of crickets chirping filled the air; until you saw a figure make its way in front of you.

  
Sitting down, his piercing blue eyes stared into yours. “Steve, before the war; he would always get into fights. I covered his ass more than anyone.” You could almost hear the amusement in his voice. You knew the memory just as well, but that story was for another time. “Okay, let’s focus on that. Now, things are going to get weird, but don’t freak out okay; it’s just a vision.”

  
Closing your eyes, you focused on the memory of Steve fighting in an alleyway in Boston. Opening them, you watched as the room lit up, particles swirling around, taking shape of Steve and his bully. He continued to get his ass handed to him, before grabbing the lid of a trashcan, using it as a shield. But the next moment, the shield was ripped from his hands, another punch to the face soon to follow. “You just don’t know when to give up, do ya?” “I can do this all day,” he breathed as his stance faltered. Attempting to land a punch of his own, he swung, just to be punched and smack his face into the trashcan. “Hey, pick on someone your own size,” a familiar voice barked, grabbing the bully by the arm. One swift punch and kick to the butt later, there was Bucky Barnes helping Steve out of the alleyway.

  
With the wave of your hand, the particles vanished just as quickly as they came. “It’s a nice memory,” you mused, watching various emotions flash before Bucky’s eyes. “How did you-” “Even I don’t know how to explain it, but I can do that with any memory; if you ever want to remember something more clearly, all you have to do is tell me.” Pulling yourself to your feet, you offered him a hand. Brushing you off, he easily got to his feet.

  
Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he finally managed to speak. “The nightmares… They don’t stop. No matter how hard I try, the nightmares continue to come. They unravel from my past the harder I try to bury them.” His words pierced your heart; if he only knew what you would do to ease his pain. Slowly reaching out, you grasped his hand in yours, entwining your fingers. “No one expects you to recover immediately, so don’t force yourself too. You might be a super soldier, but you’re also human. You’re here to recover in your own time,” you murmured, lightly squeezing his hand.

  
“I’m not promising things will go back to the way they were, but you will overcome this. You’re James Buchanan Barnes, and that’s all that matters right now.” Squeezing his hand once more, you released your hold. “I’m just down the hall if you need me.” With that, you headed back towards your room, more exhausted than you’ve been in a long time. 


	3. You're Not Alone

The next morning you woke up earlier than normal; sitting up you bit your tongue to keep from screaming. Fury sat on the window seat, staring out the window. “It’s a nice view you’ve got here (Y/N). But I feel like you’ve seen it long enough. I know that your last mission took a lot out of you, but you can’t keep running from it,” he stated, not moving from his spot. “You might live here without a care in the world, but people are dying out there; people you could be saving,” he pressed. He knew that this was touchy subject for you, but that never stopped him.

  
“I have a mission, should be easy for you. I need you to find a leader of HYDRA; nothing you haven’t done before. He’s planning an attack in London and I need to know when and where. You’re the only one who can do it without risking lives.” Just my sanity, not like that’s important. “If I say yes, will you get the hell out of my house?”

  
Flipping through the files Fury handed you, you watched him disappear in an unmarked car. He played you, and you knew it. Just as you were about to head inside, you saw Bucky running up from down the road. You waited for him to reach the top of the porch steps, before heading inside.

  
“I have some work to do, so I’ll be in my room. Oh, and Bucky,” you called from your bedroom doorway, “No matter what you hear or see, do _not_ touch me. At least not when I’m working; you won’t like what you see.” Closing the door before he could ask questions, you settled yourself in the middle of the floor. Spreading the files out, you began to comprehend who this man was and what he was willing to do for HYDRA. “Are all of HYRDA’s cult followers radical or what?”

  
Looking up for a moment, you eyed the bottle of pills, before dashing the thought. You needed to know everything about this guy; the good, the bad and definitely the ugly. Sitting up straight, you closed your eyes as you focused on your breathing. In order for you to obtain the best results, you had to be at peace with yourself; even if you faked it, it would be for the best.

  
You began to think of the man, starting with the day he was born. You watched as he grew up in an abusive household, before running away at the age of seventeen. He lived a life of crime and petty theft; until he stumbled upon HYDRA. It soon became his reason to live; no matter what he had to do, he did it and he did it right. At the age of twenty-five, he killed his best friend just to be promoted. He tortured him, cutting his fingers and toes off one by one, before burning various parts of his body. To finish the job, he used a serrated knife to slice his throat open; there was no emotion in his eyes, he felt no remorse.

  
You could feel your body twitch, threatening to break the barrier that held your own emotions. Taking a moment to steel your nerves, you continued into the man’s life. He was finally being regarded with respect by the top dogs, which made him double his efforts. He was finally going to be allowed to command a public attack; his target being the city he grew up in, London.

  
You could see glimpse of maps marked in red and bombs being wired to explosives. “Blood will soak the streets of London and Big Ben will crumble before the world,” a sickening laugh filled your ears. “Just fourteen hours remain,” his voice was drowned out by screams. Snapping your eyes open, you finally realized the screams were yours.

  
Biting your lip, your shaky hands shoved the papers underneath your bed moments before Bucky barged into your room. “(Y/N)?” You were hyperventilating, unable to control your emotions, yet still managed to point an unsteady hand towards the pill bottle. Grabbing the bottle, he opened the lid, pouring a handful into your trembling hand. Throwing them back, you did your best not to choke on them as sobs escaped your lips. It wasn’t as if the memory was the worst you’d ever seen, but it triggered the ones you did your best to forget about.

  
Scrambling to your feet, you grabbed your phone, dialing Fury as fast as your fingers would move. “(Y/N)?” Bucky tried again, but you waved him off, praying that Fury would answer.

  
“What-” “You have fourteen hours, bombs are placed throughout and underneath the structure of Big Ben in London; once midnight strikes the bombs will blow and London will be soaked in blood,” you blurted out, your entire body shaking. “Knew you could do it-” “Never again Fury. _Never_ ,” you whimpered, hanging up and crumpling to the floor. Strangled sobs escaped your lips as images flooded your mind. No amount of words could form a sentence that was capable of expressing the pain that you were going through. The images of mangles bodies and the rush of different emotions took over your body.

  
Bucky reached out for you, only for you to scramble away from his hand. “ _Don’t_! Please,” you sobbed, “it’s for your own good.” The look of pain and confusion that flashed across his face made you feel even worse. You were finally gaining his trust, only to destroy it in order to protect him.

  
“No one can help me,” you whispered, hugging your knees to your chest.

  
\- - -

  
Several days passed before you could look Bucky in the eye. He probably thought you were terrified of him; when in reality, you were the cause of your own fear. The tension between the two of you was beyond unsettling; it kept you awake at night and lingered over your shoulder during the daytime. That’s what ultimately made your decision; he had to know the truth.

  
Quietly walking into the living room, you saw Bucky staring intently at the television; apparently he was into sports- who would've guessed. You felt his eyes watch you as you walked over, snatching the remote off the table and muted the TV.

  
“It wasn’t you,” the words escaped your lips before you could even figure out how you were going to explain everything to him. Rubbing your hands over your face and bedhead, you sat on the coffee table before him. “If you think that what happened before was your fault, it wasn’t. It’s- mine.” The slight raise of an eyebrow expressed his shock; having been around him for so long, you began to comprehend his slight forms of expressions. You were right about him blaming himself; whether you were glad or sadden by that would remain a mystery.

  
“I told you that night, the night I brought the memory of Steve to life- that I was messed up. I just never told you to what extent.” Despite wanting to tell him, wanting him to understand, this was harder than your initially thought. “I worked for SHIELD; I was rarely a field agent. I would gather intel on targets and get inside their minds. I would not only put their life together in my mind, but I felt their emotions. I felt everything they did- anger, love, pain, _everything_. I was to find out where they were, what their plan was, and foil it before anyone got killed.”

  
Taking a few moments to collect your thoughts, you continued once more. “I did this for years; I caught more criminals than the entire NYPD has done in its whole existence. Only, I saw- or visualized, more things then they would ever think to imagine. But unlike them, I don’t forget.” Pulling the small blue bottle from your pocket, you handed it to him.

  
“Three years ago, I was asked to locate someone; something I’ve done a million times. I knew just from the information, that this would be my hardest job yet; I just didn’t know how hard.” Biting your lip, you watched as Bucky read the prescription label over. “The man didn’t know himself- his true self. He was a calculated killer, but he didn’t know what he was doing; I felt his raw emotion. I knew that deep down; he was confused- lost even. He had no control, simply a puppet.”

  
Tears threatened to spill, as your voice began to waiver. “He- He went through so much pain, so much damn pain.” Your body shook as the memories began to resurface. “I felt it all; I could barely keep myself together. I begged to be taken off the assignment, but it was a direct order- I had no other option. By the time I located him- I broke.” You couldn’t meet Bucky’s gaze, you could only stare at the floor in pain. “I cried, screamed- even tried to kill myself. I refused to eat or sleep. I didn’t want to know- I didn’t want to remember. I was discharged from SHIELD and brought here,” you weakly gestured to the air around you. “Sam helped me pull myself together after a year- even got Tony to make me a medication to block the memories; which is what you have in your hands.”

  
Standing up, you disappeared into your bedroom, reemerging with the file Fury had given you. This time you sat next to him, spreading the file on the table in front of you. “Fury came while you were running; he got to me. I took up a mission- something I swore I would never do again.” Pulling a picture out of the mess of papers, you stared at the black and white satellite image of a man. “He was planning a bombing in London; which would’ve killed thousands. I even watched him kill his best friend.” Tossing the picture back down, you finally rested your gaze on Bucky.

  
“It brought back more than I expected, it reminded me just how screwed up I am- how broken.” Giving him a sad smile, you leaned back into the sofa with a sigh. “If you had touched me, just a hair, you would’ve seen, heard and felt everything I was.” Turning to him, you stared into his baby blue eyes.

  
“I wouldn’t wish that on my greatest enemy.”


	4. The Past Is Catching Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this gets a little weird. I had a whole scene to add, but it even grossed me out that I just didn't add it. Oh well. Hope you enjoy!

The thing about never forgetting anything wasn’t the affect it had on you. It was the affect it forced you to have on others. You weren’t yourself, you weren’t _you_. The nightmares and endless surplus of drugs warped your mind, not only altering your personality but your entire being. The (Y/N) everyone came to love died of an overdose years ago; yet no one else seemed to notice…

  
Little things set you off, sending you on downward spiral. Even the happier moments were never anything to be proud of…

  
_“Sam, I don’t need a babysitter!” You howled for the millionth time, pacing back in forth in your small living room. “Just leave me alone.” “And have you kill yourself? You’re lucky that Clint found you when he did,” Sam shot back, not bothering to pull his eyes away from his phone._

  
_“He should’ve done us all a favor and let me die,” you spat, throwing yourself onto he sofa next to him. “You don’t know what it’s like to have every single memory of hundreds of people jammed in your head with no way out; especially those of terrorists.” “Then tell me; make me understand.” Looking up from his intense game of Angry Birds, he finally met your gaze._

  
_“How about I show you?”_

  
_Hesitantly grabbing one of his hands, you began to focus on the current nightmares that haunted you; the smell of blood, the screams of agony, and the amount of pain that flooded your body._

  
_***_

  
_“Jeffery, please,” the woman wept, scrambling to get away from her drunk husband. “I didn’t mean to-” “Do you think I give a shit?!” He yelled, throwing his empty beer bottle, which smashed mere inches away from her head._

  
_“It won’t happen again,” she promised, desperately crawling away. “I don’t believe whores,” he sneered, stalking closer. Gulping, she winced as her back came into contact with the wall; there was nowhere to run._

  
_His thick fingers that once gave her body so much pleasure now filled her with terror, as he gripped her slim throat. Pulling her small form off the ground, he slammed her into the wall with enough force to crack the drywall. “You cheated on me, didn’t you?!”_

  
_Slamming her wriggling body again, drywall began to crumble under the blunt force. “With my own brother? Tell me!” His voice seemed to add to his abusive behavior, tightening his grip. “N-Never,” she breathed, unable to form words._

  
_A twisted grin formed on his lips, as if he found the whole situation hilarious. Whether it was the years of abusing alcohol or his self-hate, he didn’t hesitate to end his source of misery. Repositioning his hands on her throat, his wife’s eyes filled with horror, only to roll back into her head with a sickening snap._

  
_Her body fell still, her hands hung limply at her sides as he continued to hold her elevated by her throat. But even the sight of his dead wife couldn’t satisfy his endless amount of rage. “Everything is your fault!”_

  
_Ramming her limp body through the wall, he finally released his grip on the now cooling neck._

  
_Had she slept with another man? No. Did he know this? Of course. His self-hatred and belief that his wife could do so much better than him ate away at him for years. It just so happened that tonight- he snapped._

  
_The vision began to shift, taking form of a small cottage in the woods. The interior was sparse but gave off a homey feel. A small fire was lit, warming the entire room. Birds could be heard chirping outside the wooden walls, along with a creek, farther off in the distance. Everything was peaceful; it could make one wonder why this memory haunted you._

  
_The front door was flung open, sending the coat-rack behind in crashing to the floor. A figure carrying a large black bag quickly stepped inside, locking the door behind him. Dumping the bag onto the small table, the man made his way to each window, closing the curtains like clockwork. Setting the coat-rack upright, he rummaged through his make-shift kitchen, grabbing silverware before pulling out a large platter and a matching bowl._

  
_Placing them next to the bag, he reached for the zipper only to stop and glance at his shirt. Chuckling to himself, he turned on his heel. “Getting ahead of yourself,” he muttered, opening his dresser. Pulling out one of the several white garments, he effortlessly tossed it over his head, tying the apparent bib around his neck._

  
_Practically strutting back over to the table, he settled himself into the single chair. Gripping the straining zipper, he slowly revealed the bag’s contents. At first only red liquid began to seep out, but as the liquid drenched the table, pooling onto the floor, the shapes inside the bag were distinguishable._

  
_A finger, followed by the rest of an arm._

  
_Opening it the rest of the way, the man carefully lifted the limb out, placing it onto the platter. By now, other limbs were visible from inside the bag. He gazed at the dismembered limb as if he was eyeing a five-star meal. Never taking his eyes away, he gently picked up the steak knife and fork._

  
_“Bon appetite.”_

  
_Wiping his mouth daintily onto his bib, he swiftly ripped it from his neck before tossing it into the bowl, which was now filled with bones; bones of his last meal. Dumping the blood-covered platter into the sink, he picked the bowl of remains up. Standing before the fireplace, he carefully dumped the contents into the flickering flame._

  
_He watched as the flames danced, graciously accepting the bones as fuel. Ripping his eyes away, he placed the bowl onto the table, before pulling the last part of his meal from the bag. The head._

  
_Blood dripped from what appeared to be a young girl’s face; her once beautiful blonde hair was now matted to her scalp with dried blood. Holding the head up to his face, he tenderly kissed her cold dead lips, before running a hand through her hair. He stared at her almost lovingly, before opening his closet. Placing the head on the empty shelf, he stepped back to enjoy his collection._

  
_His closet held no clothes, only the heads of his former meals._

  
_Did he kill at random? Never, he respected women. But there was always something about blondes; he just couldn’t get out of his head, especially if they had chocolate-colored eyes. At first he merely watched them from a distance, but seemingly innocent stalking soon turned into kidnapping, which turned into murder and ended up with cannibalism._

  
_***_

  
_Ripping your hand away, you focused on steadying your nerves. The look on his face said everything; he was terrified- petrified._

  
_Weeks passed, Sam would make his way around the house like a ghost. He made no attempts to communicate or even acknowledge your presence. You knew you shouldn’t have shown him, but he pushed you. How else can someone understand the pain you’re constantly going through? People don’t understand with words, they want proof. They always want proof._

  
_“(Y/N),” Sam called from your bedroom doorway, “Tony’s here.” Tony? Why? The entire time you’ve lived here he probably hadn’t even considered visiting you. He, like many others thought this was a charade, that you just wanted out of SHIELD; if only they knew._

  
_Pulling yourself from the cocoon which you had created throughout the restless night, you shuffled passed Sam, into the living room. “Well you look terrible,” Tony chuckled, taking in your deteriorating form. You were extremely underweight, your clothes hung limply to your body; the bags under your eyes showed that you hadn’t slept in days._

  
_“If you came here to point out the obvious, you can leave,” you sighed, too tired to deal with his shit. “Actually, Sam invited me.” Turning around, Sam gave you a weak smile. “You guys can do whatever, but why did I have to get out of bed?” “Because I have something for you,” Tony stated, pulling a small blue bottle out of his pocket._

  
_“Take it,” he urged, holding it out to you. Hesitantly taking the bottle, you scanned the label. “What is it?” “It should help stop your memories, though it might cause some side effect; such as internal bleeding, organ failure- you know, the normal.”_

  
_Slapping an unsteady hand over your gaping mouth, you collapsed onto the sofa. This? This would stop the memories? This could help you reclaim your life? This small bottle of pills?_

  
_“Of course it’s a prototype, but I’m 97% sure it will work,” Tony bragged, leaning against the wall, a smug grin etched into his facial features. “I don’t care how sure you are- thank you!” Clutching the bottle, you felt silent tears roll down your face. “Thank you so much,” you whispered, as a genuine smile for the first time in months reach your lips._

  
Turning the water off, you carefully stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your torso. “(Y/N), hurry up, the game is about to start,” Bucky called through the door. “Give me a minute,” you answered, laughing at his impatience over a basketball game; not like missing the first few minutes would ruin the next three quarters.

  
Why you had thought about the past was beyond you; but little did you know that memory would foreshadow much more than you could’ve anticipated. 


	5. Better or Worse

After spilling your whole tragic story to him, Bucky and you were closer than ever before. He often helped cook meals and even helped around the house. For once you didn’t mind not being in complete solitude, it was- _nice_. You were beginning to laugh more than you had in your entire life.

  
Not only were you improving, Bucky seemed to be transitioning into his new life better than before. His nightmares were less frequent and if he was ever bothered by something, he went straight to you. Even in complete silence, it felt normal to have his presence around.

  
Your morning routine, which was often singing at the top of your lungs while you pranced around your house, while somehow also making breakfast soon became a morning run with the ex-assassin, followed by a joint effort in making some sort of edible meal.

  
Bucky was a part of every aspect of your life, and that thought made you giddy inside. You had someone to confide in, and to always have your back; that was something you never had. You didn’t even trust Sam as much as you trusted Bucky.

  
It was almost too good to be true.

  
Even though Bucky was steadily improving, he had his moments.

  
Several times you were woken up by your bedroom door being thrown open and a broken Bucky collapsing onto the bed next to you. He would tell you every detail; though you knew everything that he was reliving, but you never expressed that to him. Instead, you told him everything he needed to hear, everything he would have to eventually come to terms with.

  
Holding his hands, you would fall asleep singing him a lullaby, but normally you sung yourself to sleep. But that didn’t matter to him, he was grateful for your patience and your willingness to hear him out. Besides, getting to watch you sleep was a plus for him.

  
Once while having your nose in a book, Bucky had fallen asleep next to you on the sofa- obviously not too impressed with the Mets performance against the Cubs. You were just finishing the last chapter when Bucky shot up, screaming in what you depicted to be Russian.

  
Throwing the poor novel to the side, you gripped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at you. “Bucky, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe; it was just a dream,” you stated calmly. His body shook with each ragged breath, his hands wrapping around yours, as if to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming.

  
“I- I was being wiped. I messed up, they-” “Shhh, you don’t have to tell me. Just try to relax.” “I have too- it was just so real. I couldn’t remember what I did to deserve that Hell. I couldn’t remember anything, except, except my mission.” Pulling him close, you slowly stroke his hair, brushing it from his face.

  
“Just a nightmare, it’s all over now. You don’t have a mission anymore. And I wouldn’t exactly consider my house a hellhole,” you chuckled, doing your best to lighten the mood. You felt his frantic breaths against your skin, as you pressed his head into the crook of your neck. Despite your wishes, you felt your cheeks begin to burn as your thoughts went elsewhere.

  
Pull it together; this is no time for inappropriate thoughts! He just had a nightmare and you’re thinking of what else could’ve caused him to breathe like this?! Stupid!

  
Shaking your head, you pushed the unwanted but at the same time the _oh-so-_ wanted thoughts to the back of your mind.

  
“Things will get better, I promise. All in due time, Bucky.”

  
***

  
Weeks passed without incident. Yet, each day managed to be different. You were experiencing certain emotions for the first time for yourself- not from someone else’s memories. You related the feelings towards that of love, but you brushed it off as a friendly kind of love, like what you had with Sam.

  
Though you often laid awake at night questioning yourself and your faulty reasoning. More than once had Bucky caught you staring at him, analyzing his facial profile and those heavenly blue eyes; only to turn away and busy yourself to keep him from noticing the reddening of your face.

  
But what really set you off was when he would give you this lopsided grin whenever you messed up- whether it was tripping over your own two feet or stumbling over your words as you excitedly explained your ‘ships’. You couldn’t deny the sense of giddiness that swelled inside your chest whenever he praised you or laughed- _his_ laugh.

  
A genuine laugh was rare and far between, but when it occurred- great _God_ , it sent chills up your spine. His lips would curl up, exposing his perfect teeth as he threw his head back. The loud laughter was contagious, and often sent you into a fit of giggles as well- even if it was at your own expense. You didn’t know how you spent so many years being alone; this felt normal- _natural_.

  
Maybe you were in denial? Were you? You obviously didn’t know what to think. Despite experiencing emotions through every memory, you were never good with deciphering your own.

  
Only when your cards were forced, did you begin to realize the entire affect Bucky had on you.

 

 


	6. Just A Cold

You had slept in, missing the morning run with Bucky, much to your disappointment. But you were grateful he let you sleep, you weren’t exactly feeling great. Your chest was tight, and it was slightly difficult to breathe.

  
As you quickly took a shower and changed into a t-shirt and shorts, you came to the decision that it was just a cold, nothing to worry about. Carelessly drying your hair with a towel, you wandered into the living room. A quick glance at the clock told you Bucky would be back any minute now; just the thought brought a smile to your face.

  
Just when you had made up your mind to make breakfast as a little surprise, your phone rang. Snatching it up from where it sat from the night before, you answered without bothering to check the caller ID. “(Y/N)’s funeral home; you stab ’em we bag ’em.” “(Y/N), do us all a favor and never say that again,” Steve’s voice deadpanned.

  
“Shut up you fossil,” you chuckled, “What’s up?” “Just checking to see how things are going, with Bucky and all.” His concern for his childhood friend was one of the most innocent things you had ever witnessed. “He’s great, currently out running. He hasn’t had a nightmare in weeks; he’s adapted to pretty much everything here.”

  
In all honesty, just being able to tell Steve how well Bucky had changed since you’d first met him, brought a smile to your face. He might have been taking more time than Steve did to recover, but none of that mattered. He was recovering; that’s what mattered.

  
“That’s fantastic; I’m on my way back to New York, the mission is finished. How-”

  
The static in the phone made it slightly difficult to hear Steve’s reply. “What? Can you repeat that?”

  
“How about Bucky comes and stays with me?”

 

*******

  
“How about Bucky comes and stays with me?”

  
Steve’s words repeated themselves in your head. Your chest was filled with mixed emotions, some you’d never felt before. You never thought about when Bucky would leave you; you never thought that far ahead- _ever_. Sure you agreed to let him stay with you, but you didn’t think you’d become so attached to him in such little time.

  
Did you really want to go back to living alone? No. Did you want to go back to dreading each day? _No_. Did you want to return to crying in the shower, convincing yourself that it was water dripping from your face? _No_. Did you want to go back to singing in the morning and not have someone to shut you up with a pillow? _Not in the slightest._

  
Did you want Bucky to recover? _More than anything in this world._

  
“I think that would probably be for the best,” you could barely process the words that passed your lips. No, I want Bucky to stay with me; don’t leave me to my own thoughts. “He needs to get used to being with people, not stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with me.” I’m scared of what I’ll do; I’m scared the pills aren’t working anymore. “I’m gonna miss the bastard.” Don’t force me to be alone- again!

  
“Great!” Steve’s voice laughed from the other side of the phone. “How about Sam and I pick him up Friday morning?” Friday? This Friday? But that’s in two days… “Perfect! That gives me enough time to bug the hell out of him,” you chuckled, as you stared blankly out the window, watching Bucky appear in the distance. “I’ll see you then!”

  
Pulling the phone away from your ear, you stared at the now blank screen. Guess this is how Steve felt all those years ago.

  
That night went by as normal, ending with watching yet another baseball game with Bucky.

  
“I don’t understand why people play, let alone watch golf. It’s boring as hell,” you muttered against his chest as a golf commercial flashed across the screen. Some way or another, you had ended up cuddling with the man- leaving you stuck between the back of the sofa and him. Not that you were complaining, yet despite his body heat, you were freezing.

  
“Maybe if they beat each other up with the clubs, maybe then I would take an interest.” The words fell out of your mouth without a second thought. You felt Bucky’s chest rumble underneath you, as he chuckled at your bizarre idea. His human hand gently brushed the hair off your face, pausing as he touched your forehead.

  
“(Y/N), you’re warm.” “Really? I feel like I’m freezing,” your words were muffled as you snuggled closer against him. “You should go to bed-” “It’s just a cold Bucky, I’ll be fine. I doubt you even get sick- you with all your super hero kryptonite magical shit.”

  
Knowing how stubborn you are, he easily wrapped his arms around you, lifting your shivering form up with ease. Pulling himself off the sofa, he carried you towards the back of the house, to your bedroom. He set you gently on the bed, before closing the curtains. Just as he turned his back, he watched as you quickly grabbed the familiar blue pill bottle off the nightstand, and throwing back a handful of pills before cautiously rubbing your chest.

  
“Back in my day, poppin’ pills wasn’t a good thing,” he stated walking back over to the bed, “and I’m pretty sure that hasn’t changed.” “No need to worry, old man. They haven’t killed me yet,” you managed, before covering your mouth as a nasty cough escaped.

  
“Enough talking,” he stated, tucking you in, “It’s passed your bedtime kid.” “I could say the same to you, old geezer. Isn’t it dangerous to be walking without a cane?” You shot back, fighting to keep your eyes open. Despite the scowl on his face, you closed your eyes knowing he was just concerned.

  
If only you knew just how concerned he actually was.

 

 


	7. A Little Too Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a dozen different ideas of what direction this should go but still haven't decided... Enjoy!

_Wake up…_

  
_Wake up…_

  
_Wake up!_

  
Snapping your eyes open, you gasped for breath as the world spun around you. Your body was cloaked in a sheet of sweat, majority of your blankets loosely hung off the edge of the bed. Throwing the remaining covers off, you stumbled towards the bathroom. Collapsing next to the toilet, you opened the lid just in time for the stomach bile forcing itself out of your mouth. Closing your eyes, you gasped for oxygen as round two threatened to make itself known.

  
Glancing down, you cringed at the sight; blood and pills. It wasn’t the blood or the pills themselves that made you cringe, it was the mere thought that you couldn’t keep the pills down. No pills meant no way to stop the memories. No way to stop the memories meant a relapse.

  
Several minutes passed before you had the strength to pull yourself off the floor, and back into your bedroom. Gently lying back down on the bed, you stared at the blinking digits on the ceiling. 4:53am. It was going to be a long day.

  
Hours passed as you attempted to fall asleep, but to no avail. You’d beat your high score on Candy Crush before deleting the game and questioning why you even got it in the first place. You discovered that despite ripping the tag off the mattress, no government officials came swarming in to arrest you. By the time Bucky came to check on you, you were losing your mind- and the feeling in your back.

  
“You’re already up,” he stated, walking into the room. “Been up,” your hoarse voice rasped. His eyes narrowed at the sound of your voice. “Don’t make me stay in bed; it’s the last day you’re here,” you begged, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Doesn’t matter, the sick need to rest.” “But Buckyyyy,” you whined, not caring how much you were living up to that ‘kid’ comment from the previous night.

  
“I didn’t say I would make you rest alone,” he chuckled, ruffling your already messy hair. “Be back with breakfast,” he called, exiting the room before you could comment. What were you going to do without him?

  
Despite being on bed-rest, Bucky made sure that you were entertained.

  
He moved the TV into your room, even sat through hours of Supernatural and Say Yes to the Dress. He often ignored your inappropriate comments about Sam and Dean, but was strangely willing to hear you out of which dresses you thought were to die for. A simple game of Twenty Questions soon turned into telling favorite memories from your childhoods; Bucky remembered quite a lot from before the war. In between topics, he would help you to the bathroom and made sure to bring you small meals periodically. Eventually, you finally fell back asleep.

  
***

  
Bucky sat up, surprised he actually fell asleep. Panic set in the moment he noticed you were missing. Scrambling off the bed, and into the living room, he relaxed as sounds of clanking in the kitchen filled his ears. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  
Looking up, you gave him a small smile before gesturing towards the glass. “I wanted some water, didn’t think I had to wake you up and get permission for that,” you mused, taking a small sip. “I would’ve gotten it for you,” he sighed, turning off the kitchen light. “I know, that’s why I got it.”

  
Leaning against the wall besides Bucky’s room, you continued. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine. Besides, after tomorrow, I won’t have this kind of special treatment; I shouldn’t get accustomed to it.” “Maybe I should stay a few extra days, just until you’re better-” “No Bucky, I wouldn’t let you even if you tried. You can’t get anything more out of living here; trust me, _I know_.”

  
“Goodnight Bucky,” you spoke softly, standing on your toes, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “I’m just down the hall if you need me.” Resisting the urge to tease him at the darkening of his cheeks, you gave him a quick wave before closing your bedroom door behind you.

  
Downing the rest of your water, you slowly changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, not bothering to take a shower. Just as you were about to crawl under the warm covers, your phone rang.

  
Slowly lowering yourself onto your mattress, you quickly answered the phone. “Hey Natasha,” your hoarse voice managed. “You sound horrible (Y/N).” “Aw, you sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.” “So I heard Bucky is going to live with Steve.” “Well you’re not wrong; he leaves in the morning.” “Well you can always visit him, you know if you get lonely.” Opening your mouth to speak, you were cut short by a horrendous cough which wracked throughout your entire body. Clearing your throat, you tried again, “I think tomorrow will be the end of it.”

  
“What do you mean?” “Nat, I can’t do this for much longer. I physically can’t; every time I close my eyes it gets harder and harder to get up.” You could practically hear the gears in her head turn as she tried to figure out your words. “Whatever it is, you’ll pull through.” “Nat, I gave up a while ago. I took up a mission-” “ _You what_!?” “Fury got under my skin, convinced me to help him catch some leader from HYDRA; I remember now why I left the field. I’m broken.”

  
Nothing could help you, you were a lost cause. “I’m dying inside,” you finally admitted, after you hung up on the furious red-head.

What was the point of asking for help now? It's too late. You were always too late.

 

Always.

 

 


	8. Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I didn't forget about these stories; I was simply being beaten to death by life itself. Enough excuses on my part- at last, a new chapter. Hope you all enjoy!

The next morning came and before you knew it, you stood in the living room watching Bucky grab his bulging suitcase. “I’m going to miss you, old man,” you whispered, pulling him in for a hug. “You’re such a kid,” his chest rumbled against your ear. “Don’t forget about me, promise?” You stared up at him, your words meaning more than you let on, ignoring the shearing pain in your chest. “Wouldn’t think about it doll.” His blue eyes sparkled as you released him.

Turning to Sam, you managed a small smile. “I think it’s time for you… to-” Before you could finish your sentence, your legs gave out as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Bucky was the first to respond, dropping his bag and catching your limp body. “Get her in the car,” Sam barked, already out the door. Bucky lifted your body which weighed practically nothing; how could he have not noticed!? You were half the person you were when he met you. Sprinting to the vehicle, he gently laid you down before crawling in beside you.

“Take her to Stark, it might be her medication,” Steve barked as Sam began pulling out of the driveway. “Buck, make sure she’s still breathing,” he ordered, before fishing his phone out of his pocket. A few moments later, Tony’s voice could be heard from the other side. “(Y/N) collapsed; we’re bringing her to you. Not sure what we’re in for. Is Doctor Cho and Banner still there? …Good. I just hope we make in time.”

The ride to the tower couldn’t have been more nerve-wracking. Bucky monitored your breathing, which seemed to only get shallower as time passed. What could possibly be wrong with you? You only had a simple cold… Unless it wasn’t. You were feverish, clutched your chest when you thought he wasn’t looking and seemed to be taking more and more of those damn pills. By the time they reached the tower and you were placed on a stretcher, Bucky was beyond losing his composure.

“Any idea what happened?” Doctor Cho asked, as she pushed you into the lab. “She was running a fever, said it was just a small cold; but she constantly took handfuls of pills,” Bucky spoke up without hesitation, surprising even himself. Using a handheld device, Doctor Cho quickly scanned your body looking for any signs of internal damage. “Were the pills in a small blue bottle about yay big?” Tony asked, gesturing with his hands. “Yeah, why?” “Oh dear.”

“H-Her lungs completely black. Her body should’ve failed months ago,” the doctor stated, pushing your failing body into another room. “She needs a transplant, there’s no other way she’ll survive.” “Well can’t you just put her on a machine until then?” “Her body is too unstable; it’s already shutting down as we speak. She needs it now-”

“Can she use one of ours?”  
  


***  
  


_“Hey (Y/N),” your older brother called from higher up the tree. “I don’t talk to losers,” you shouted back, giggling at your own joke. “Very funny,” he mocked, hanging upside down to get a better look at you. “When we grow up, do you think we’ll still be friends?” “You’re my brother, so of course we will be,” you stated, telling it like it was, or at least what your child-like logic figured. “Always?” he asked, sitting up._

_Despite your mother’s warnings, the two of you constantly climbed trees and ventured farther into the woods than you probably should have. At least this time the house was visible._

_“Always, you big dumb,” you laughed, looking up at him. “Now that that’s settled,” he grinned, looking relieved, “I’m going to stick the landing,” he declared eyeing the ground several feet below. “Don’t-” Unfortunately for him, he didn’t bother to hear you out. Let’s just say there wasn’t any tree climbing for quite a while after that._

_\---_

_“Hey (Y/N),” your brother called from the doorway. “I don’t talk to losers…” “It’s time,” he sighed, walking over to your huddled form. The smile that had comforted you so many times before did nothing for the pain in your heart. “I don’t want you to go. It’s not fair! I don’t want to be alone, you’re all I have left,” you croaked, doing your best not to cry._

_You felt the bed dip as he sat next to you, pulling you in for a hug. “You’ll never be alone (Y/N), you always know where I am,” he chuckled, kissing your head lightly. “But what if something happens? It’s not like you’re in the reserves, you’re in the Special Forces! I can’t contact you-” “We might not be able to communicate for a few months, but I know you’ll always be watching over me,” he whispered, giving you a knowing look. He knew that you’d use your powers to watch his every move; just like when you were kids._

_“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” he muttered, hugging you one last time. Ruffling your hair, he got to his feet._

_“Always.”_

_\---_

_“Hey (Y/N),” he croaked from behind the oxygen mask. “I don’t talk to losers,” you choked out as tears rolled down your cheeks. The man in the hospital bed looked nothing like the brother you had sent off just mere months before. His team had been ambushed on the way back to base, leaving all but him and a fellow sniper as survivors. He had lost both legs and half his face was covered by bloody gauze. But he knew that you knew the worst of it. He had taken three bullets to the chest, and the shrapnel was inching closer to his heart with each beat._

_Your last family member, your best friend, your brother, was dying._

_Leaning against the cot, you gripped his hand tightly. “You idiot, you stupid idiot,” you sobbed, unable to stop the tears. “Why did you tell me to take care of myself, when you can’t even take care of yourself?” “It’s my turn to watch over you,” he whispered, squeezing your hand lightly. “I never needed supervision, you did.” The twinkle in his eyes confirmed he knew exactly what you were referring too. “Promise me this, promise me that you’ll live for the both of us,” he gasped, holding the mask tighter to his face with his free hand._

_“But I-” “I never said you had to do it alone,” he chuckled as his heart monitor started to beep. Pulling him in for an awkward hug, due to the various IVs and tubes, you kissed his temple lightly. “Only if you promise to watch over me,” you whispered as the beeping began to slow._

_“Always.”_  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters belong to Marvel, I simply own the story.


	9. It's Not The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typed two chapters as my token of forgiveness (ya know, for not updating for over two months)... Also /slight/ suicidal thoughts in this chapter, please skip if such topics trigger you in anyway.

Opening your eyes, you were welcomed with a familiar ceiling. “Nice of you to join us, (Y/N),” a familiar voice startled you. Turning your head, you noticed Fury looking out the window. “Guess this means I’m not dead.” “Guess not.” The silence that fell between the two of you was enough to make your skin crawl.

“That was some stunt you pulled,” he spoke first, walking towards the bed. “In case you forgot I lost my will to live,” you spat, throwing the layers of blankets off. “It was a possible side effect of Stark’s drug. Keep the memories at bay, but use it long-term and it would attack my organs.” Using the bed as support, you pulled yourself to your feet.

“You should stay in bed, you need to rest.” Ignoring him, you walked straight out of the bedroom. “(Y/N)! You need to rest dammit!” Fury yelled, following you into the living room, where the rest of the team was waiting. “I need to rest!? That’s not what you said a few weeks ago,” you screamed whirling around. “You said I was faking this, that I could still be in the field. You said three years was enough of a charade, that every day I wasted out here costed thousands of innocent lives!  I was depressed, I was _dying_! I put myself through more pain just to keep you off my back! Do you know what it’s like to hold the memories of serial killers, rapists, pedophiles and terrorist inside your head? No, you don’t; you never will. It’s like a movie on repeat; if it’s not a woman being raped and then dismembered, it’s the slicing of a child’s throat.  Yes Fury, it was some _stunt_ I pulled; keeping the fact that I was dying hidden from everyone. But I wanted too, _I want to die_.” As the tears pricked at your eyes, you sprinted out the front door.

Your bare feet pounded against the dirt road, picking up speed the farther you got from the house. You couldn’t face them after that, especially Bucky. _Bucky_. Just the thought of him made you push yourself harder. His face fell as you screamed at Fury, declaring that you _wanted_ to die. His beautiful baby-blue eyes were filled with pain; he didn’t deserve to be forced through any more pain. Veering off the road, you sprinted through the woods, jumping over fallen logs and small streams. You needed to get away.

As you picked your way through the foliage, your foot caught on a twisted root you hadn’t noticed.  It sent you tumbling forward, unable to catch yourself. You landed face first into the uneven ground, barely giving you enough time to turn your head to avoid crushing your nose. With a painful groan, you scrambled to pull yourself up, as much as your muscles protested.  

Gripping the nearest tree as support, the tears began to flow, but you didn’t care at the moment. Unable to stop them, you just let them flow and let them mix with the blood seeping from the freshly made cuts along your face. It had been so long since you cried for someone, based off your own emotions. You couldn’t help yourself, you couldn’t even help Bucky.

You could feel your chest tighten; telltale sign that you had not fully recovered. Taking a moment to steadying your heartbeat, the faint sound of someone running in the distance sent you running. Gasping for breath you resumed sprinting; until you saw the edge of the cliff.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, you continued to the edge. This was it; you were finally going to escape this miserable hell. No more nightmares, no more pills; _nothing_. Sure you’d go to Hell for killing yourself, but you convinced yourself that it would be better than how things were now.

Your family was dead, you had no friends besides the Avengers, and you weren’t exactly enjoying your complete solitude. You’d lived away from people for years, in hopes of recovering, but it only made things worse. You were depressed, and the nightmares were getting worse; you had nothing worth living for.

_But-_

But things _were_ getting better. Bucky was making your life livable again. He was the reason you woke up with a smile on your face; he made you laugh more than you had in a long time. His stupid smirk when you made a fool of yourself set butterflies loose in your stomach; or when he caught you staring at his baby-blue eyes and you’d cover your face as it burned.

As you slowed to a stop, your screaming muscles gave out, sending you to your knees. Staring at the valley below, you felt something click deep inside.

_You were in love with Bucky._

Fresh tears welled up in your eyes, as strangled sobs forced their way out of your pitiful form.

“No… I can’t- It wasn’t supposed to- Oh _God_ ,” you wailed, covering your mouth as you tried to reason with yourself.

 

_You were in love with the man who broke you._  
  


***  
  


Looking behind you, you looked to see Bucky breathing heavily a few feet away.

His face was full of concern as he knelt down beside you.  “What the hell were you thinking (Y/N)?!” He yelled, his voice cracking. Staring at him, you felt guilt well up inside you as tears began to fall from the blue eyes you came to love. _You_ caused this. _You_ caused Bucky pain. _You_ made him cry.

Without waiting for an answer, Bucky stood up. Stooping down, he picked your fragile form off the ground and held you close to his chest. He carried you back to the house; neither of you attempted to say a word. The silence was enough.

Steve held the door open for Bucky, as he entered the house. Slipping out of his grip, you managed to find your balance; not bothering to look at Bucky.

“Steve take Bucky home-” “You can’t be alone-” “I’ll go with Sam. I- I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, numbly walking to your room, leaving everyone behind.

  

Even Bucky.


	10. "I Love Him"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I apologize for the wait. I hope you all enjoy! Any feedback would be lovely!

“Tony wants you to check in with him, see how your brain is handling everything,” Sam called from his small kitchen. “Hmmm?” “He doesn’t want to have a repeat of last time.” Not bothering to look up from the book you currently held in your frail hands, you gave him a slight shrug.

“(Y/N), if you’re going to act like you’re reading, at least have the book upright,” Sam sighed, disappearing into his bedroom. Blinking at the musty pages before you, you realized that the book was upside down.

Tossing it to the side, you glanced at the news flashing across the television. September 24th. It’s already been six months since you’d last been home, since you’d last seen Bucky.

_Bucky.  
_

_God_ how you missed the bastard; he plagued your thoughts and your dreams. Even after the surgery Tony oh so graciously set up for you, your mind still lingered on him. After what happened, you couldn’t bear to face him again. He probably hated you, which was understandable. You never forgave yourself for what you did, even if it was for the better.

You sent him away. You turned your back on him. _You caused this.  
_

Snatching the remote off the armrest, you quickly muted the TV before tossing one of Sam’s oversized hoodies one. So what if you looked like a real-life Baymax, there was no one worth impressing anyways; that person was long gone by this point.

“Ahem,” Sam cleared his throat, bringing you back to reality. “Your brain isn’t going to check itself,” he lightly jabbed, his hand jingling his keys in his pocket. “Don’t get your feathers all ruffled,” you scoffed, pulling yourself to your feet. Holding the front door open for you, Sam gave you a knowing look; he always knew when you were thinking of Bucky.

He helped veterans overcome PTSD- there was no way he didn’t recognize similar symptoms in you.

Just as you had buckled yourself in, Sam brought the van to life with a twist of his keys. “It shouldn’t take too long, just a quick check-up,” he explained, pulling out into the busy street. Staring blankly at the passing scenery, you could already feel the dread settle in your chest. Nothing was quick when Tony was involved.

Sam dropped you off at the entrance, before disappearing into the parking structure. Shuffling into the massive building, a familiar voice greeted you. “Glad to see you up and moving (Y/N),” Banner chuckled, wrapping your still recovering body into a hug. “In no time I’ll be able to get right back in the game, and not have a complete breakdown,” you mused, pulling away.

“So,” Banner began, as he pressed the small white button for the lift, “have you talked to him?” “No, I don’t think he even wants to have anything to do with me by this point. I crushed him when he needed someone to be there for him the most; I have no right to be upset with him.” Stepping into the elevator, you stared at your reflection in the marble tile as Banner picked the floor level to the lab. “Have you been watching him?” Glancing up, you shook your head sadly. “I don’t have the guts to do so,” you admitted, as the elevator came to a stop.

“(Y/N)! Glad to see you among the living,” Tony chuckled, greeting you the moment the doors revealed you and Banner. The dread from earlier began to seep its way back into you. One way or another, Tony Stark would be the death of you.

Surprisingly the checkup with Tony was actually entertaining to say the least. Tony and Banner went at it like usual, arguing who was more qualified to check your brain waves. Much to your relief, Banner won. You loved Tony, and could never repay him for what he’s done, but you’d trust a level-headed Banner over him any day.

After the one of a kind surgery, you were now in better control of your memories. You didn’t have to take countless drugs to keep them at bay; you simply willed them away- like a normal human being. This gave you a world of opportunities now; you could go back to work, you could have a social life again, but most of all, you didn’t have to live in isolation anymore.

You were no longer broken- but there still seemed to be a piece missing from the puzzle.

Slipping into the passenger’s seat next to Sam, you gave him a thumbs up. “Anywhere else you’d like to go while we’re out?” Biting your lip, you hesitantly opened your mouth. “I want to go home, just… Check on things, I mean it’s been a while,” you said quietly.

“Only because you deserve at least this much,” he chuckled, turning onto the highway.  
  


***  
  


After promising Sam that you’d only be a few minutes, you slipped out of the vehicle and bounded up the steps. Unlocking the front door, you stepped inside to see things exactly the way they were when you left.

The recliner was pushed awkward up against the wall, from when Bucky abruptly stood up to go chasing after you. The sofa sagged to one side, the side Steve always sat on. A moldy bag of blueberries sat on the coffee table, leftover by Tony Stark himself.

Smiling to yourself, you swiftly picked the bag up, carrying it to the kitchen. As you neared the trash can, you stumbled over your feet, dropping the small bag in the process. “Dammit,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. Bending down, you froze.

“ALWAYS” was clumsily spelt out by the blueberries.

Shaking your head, you quickly scooped them up before tossing them.

It was just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Making your way down the hallway, you hesitated outside of Bucky’s room. Grabbing the doorknob, you paused. You couldn’t do it. Even after all this time, you were scared; scared to confront anything that reminded you of him. Dropping your hand back to your side, you blinked away the tears, before heading towards your room. You needed to forget him- something you could do now.

Stepping into the familiar bedroom, everything seemed to be in place. After a good dusting, things would be back to the way it was, or so you convinced yourself.

Walking over to the nightstand, you gingerly picked up the picture frame that had watched over you for years. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you stared at the last picture you took with your older brother. The two of you had climbed to the top of the roof, sitting there for hours, just talking. It seemed so simple at the time; things were so different then what either of you had predicted.

He had pulled out a camera, taking a picture of the two of you, mid-laughter. You were clutching your ribs, leaning on your brother for support, while he laughed just as hard. Despite him being a few years older, you were peas in a pod. You were inseparable- until…

Brushing the dust off the frame, you went to place it back on the nightstand, only to watch in horror as it slipped from your grip. Flipping once in the air, the photo landed directly onto its back. Luckily only the glass broke and the frame was still intact.

Lowering yourself to the floor, you quickly gathered the shattered glass. Placing the pieces in a pile on the nightstand, you glanced at the picture sticking part way out of the frame. Carefully pulling it out, you did a double take.  You distinctly remember that nothing was ever written on the back of the photo- yet…

“ALWAYS” was scribbled on the back of the photo in your brother’s messy handwriting.  
  


 ***  
  


“I’ve fucked up,” you whispered, staring at your brother’s smile. “I broke my promise. I tried to kill myself- twice. I didn’t try to live for the both of us, hell, I didn’t even live for myself,” you croaked as hot tears fell from your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” you cried out, covering your mouth with your free hand. Your brother deserved better, especially from you- his sister. He was giving you a sign; pull your shit together. You could practically hear him say it.

“I’m going to get better, I already am. I’m not plagued by the memories anymore, the nightmares are gone. It’s almost unbelievable. I lived in fear every day that I’m practically waiting for them to return,” you sniffed, wiping your nose with your sleeve. “I realized something, on that cliff... I’m in love.”

Brushing your fingers across the photo, you smiled sadly. “I’m pretty sure he hates me now, I turned my back on him. At the time it was for the best, but now… I miss the old geezer,” you breathed, hiding your face in your knees. Wrapping your arms around your knees, you pressed them tighter against your chest. “You’d love him; the two of you would’ve made my life hell together. Sure he technically qualifies for medicare, and is a total worry-wart, and has about much faith in my common sense as you did, but-” Biting your lip, you closed your eyes as more tears spilled down your cheeks.  
  


“I love him.”


End file.
